


The Whistler

by Plaidsoulseller



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Based on a True Story, Big Brother Gabriel, Convicted Castiel, Doctor Castiel, F/F, F/M, Harvard University, Homeless Castiel, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jail, M/M, MIT, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Mechanic Dean, Past Rape/Non-con, The Whistler was a real person, Tufts University, Veteran Castiel, Worcester, imprisoned castiel, no non-con between cas and dean though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:47:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4479761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plaidsoulseller/pseuds/Plaidsoulseller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This place is unlike any he's been before. The people are rude, the city is loud, and if it weren't for Sam getting his Law degree, he would've left ages ago. That is until he hears a tune being whistled that takes him back to a warmer, happier place. But why does this guy keep whistling? Who is the strange "Whistler"? And why can't Dean get enough of him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I just got back from vacation and I heard this story about this guy who would walk around Worcester (Pronounced "woos-ter" for anyone who hasn't ever been to MA and keeps reading it as wor-ses-ter) whistling and was beloved in the community. I thought it would be an interesting prompt for my OTP so... here you go! Obviously, it's loosely based on a true story but i've taken a lot of creative liberties on their backstories and whatnot. I own nothing. 
> 
> Also comments and kudos are my favorite, it lets me know you love me and encourages me to keep writing. uwu
> 
> See the end notes for a message about my other Fic going as well.

Working was what Dean lived for. He loved getting down and dirty under the hood of a beautiful machine, connecting, repairing, replacing, and tuning. In Kansas, there was plenty of work to be done and plenty of time to do it. He had his regulars, oil changes, scheduled maintenance, that sort of thing. They were always good to him.

Even if in Lawrence it was hard to make ends meet on a Mechanic’s salary, he was always paid fairly and his customers would sometimes give him generous tips around the holidays or invite him and his brother over for a home cooked meal. 

He was good at what he did, and didn’t mind going the extra mile for the patrons of his shop. They repaid him well for it.

It was nothing like Worcester, Massachusetts.

Massachusetts was like another world to Dean. The people were loud and impatient. They _demanded_ a quick job, and were always in a rush. Dean hated the close quarters of the city, all the one way streets you could accidentally find yourself going the wrong way on, and the way that everyone seemed generally annoyed with each other. He was homesick.

Dean buried himself in the work at his garage on Cambridge Street. There were probably 12 other mechanics in a 3 mile radius. Even after only living there for a few months, Dean was starting to gain regulars. That was good, he figured. The garage itself was small, only room enough for 2 or 3 cars at one time. The saving grace was that it had a large parking lot in the back that had been grossly underused by the previous owner. Dean didn’t mind getting on a little scooter and sliding under the cars to take a look instead of hoisting them up in the garage itself. 

Dean often lost track of time and worked well into the night. It was only pure chance that on Friday, a day usually dedicated to fixing up daily drivers for the clients who were trying to drive their cars into the ground, Lisa came out of the office and asked if she might be able to leave early. Well, more like closer to the time her shift actually ended. 

“It’s okay if you need me here, but I have plans with some of my girlfriend’s to go to a hot yoga class tonight,” She said with her eyes bright and he smile wide. 

Dean nodded. Lisa had been his receptionist since he moved to the city. She always stayed late with him and did nice things like bringing him snacks or water or whatever he needed to get through a tough job. Her shift was supposed to end at 4. It was already 5:15. 

“Yeah, sure, Lis.” He smiled. Another great part about her working in the office was how charmingly beautiful she was. She smiled even more excitedly and bounced off to collect her things out of the office. 

Dean had another mechanic, too. His name was Ash and, of all things, he had studied at MIT before getting kicked out. Dean never would have guessed, considering Ash looked way less like an MIT genius and more like a Duran Duran reject with a redneck attitude. Dean had come across a few guys like that back home, but fewer in the years he lived in Palo Alto, and none besides Ash in Massachusetts.

Ash only worked on weekends through Wednesday, and unless it was super busy that gave Dean the weekends off. He was glad for it, so he could hop the train out to Cambridge and see Sam. 

Now Sam was exactly what Ivy-League looked like, beside his long and shaggy brown hair. The kid had landed himself a free ride through pre-law and then was given the opportunity to study at Harvard Law. Only Harvard was much more expensive than Stanford was, and even though he still got scholarships, everything was more expensive in Massachusetts.

Dean made it work, though. 

And so, Dean worked long hours in the garage and Sam studied his ass off. It made Dean incredibly proud. 

Dean wiped his hands on a rag lying on his station and frowned a little to himself. He didn’t want to stay alone and work on the car, it was the last car of the day and it had come in at 4:45 anyway, so they weren’t expecting it back soon. He figured he’d leave it for Ash but then finished the car he had been previously working on and got caught up trying to figure out the problem with the coolant. It was always the story with Dean. He’d solve one problem and then be faced with another just as quickly. 

Funny how life goes. 

Lisa was in the office as he sauntered over, having already pulled off his jumpsuit and just wearing his work jeans and a white under-shirt underneath. “So,” He started with his most charming smile, “Yoga, huh? I didn’t know you were so bendy. Like a regular Gumby!” He said and regretted it just as quickly. _Shit,_ he thought, _she’s gonna think I’m such a creep, wait, does that make me Pokey?!?_

Luckily, she just laughed and smiled again at him. “Sort of,” She said, “I used to teach yoga for a while, before I got pregnant with Ben.” 

Dean recalled having this conversation before. It must be Ben’s father’s weekend, then. “Right, right.” Dean said, and tried not to make it awkward. Every time he tried to flirt with her, thoughts of Ben came flashing into his memory’s view. Dean _LOVED_ the kid. Dean wanted to give him the world, and Lisa too. He wanted to ask her out, but memories of his own father would come back to haunt him. He figured he would just end up like his father. A mechanic that would eventually drink himself to death. 

He couldn’t do that to Lisa. He definitely couldn’t do it to her son. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I hope you have a wonderful time doing yoga in a sauna, then. Have a good night, Lis!” 

He waved to her as she was halfway out the door. “Goodnight, Dean. Tell Sam I say hi!” And with that she was gone. 

Dean locked up and sighed. He had an apartment, a third floor walk-up that was crappy at best. However, it was only 2 blocks away so Dean really couldn’t justify driving. Especially since he was more concerned with his Baby, a black 1967 chevy Impala, getting vandalized in the open lot in the back of his garage than he was at home under a tarp during the day. 

As soon as he stepped on to the side walk to begin his walk home he heard a familiar tune being whistled.

He would recognize that song anywhere, “Hey Jude.” His mother used to sing it to him as a lullaby before she died. He looked around for the source and saw another man, perhaps a few years older than himself, with eyes that could pierce and hair such a dark brown it almost looked black. The man wore a trench coat and a cheap suit with his tie on backwards. 

The man continued to whistle and people on the street would smile and say hi to him, to which he would wave and continue his stroll and his song. He was walking the way Dean had to go, so naturally Dean followed far enough behind him that it wasn’t creepy but close enough so that he could enjoy the song. 

After the first block the man finished his tune and started whistling another Beatles song, “Rocky Raccoon.” 

After another half a block, some children playing in one of the yards heard the tune and ran to the whistling man. “Mr. Whistler! Mr. Whistler!” One of the young girls said, and Dean was confused. Apparently this guy did this a lot? Maybe there was something wrong with him. Like a brain injury or something? 

“And how are you, this evening?” He asked the young girl, effectively cutting off Dean’s train of thought. 

The young girl giggled and exchanged pleasantries for a while, then the Whistler said, “You know, you just keep getting prettier and prettier every time I see you.” He said it in a breezy way, and the little girl gave him a smile and ran off to play with the kids again. Dean could tell the compliment was sincere, and Dean wondered how often the Whistler came this way. 

Dean decided to follow behind the Whistler for a while longer. Totally not in a stalker way though. Nope. Not weird at all. 

The man crosses on to Park Avenue whistling all the while. A few people come chat with him and Dean walks slowly ahead so that he’s still in earshot for snip-its of conversation. It seems every where this Whistler goes, people know him. Kids will run up to him, teenagers will hug him, and adults will shake his hand and converse with him. 

Dean hears the end of a conversation with an elderly woman. Asking him if he read the book she had recommended and him saying that it was an _olio_ of emotions and that he was quite taken with the _quixotic_ relationship of the main character and her sister’s best friend. 

Okay, so not only was he apparently famous in Worcester, but also highly educated. 

But why was he walking around town like he had no where to be?

Dean finally decided to grab something to eat and headed back to his apartment. He figured it was still a big city. He’d probably never see the guy again. 

 

————————

Castiel had tried, he really did. He had applied for a job at a local medical examiner’s office, just doing clerical work. He could’ve, and should have, been hired as a medical examiner at least, having a medical degree courtesy of Tufts University and a background as a Doctor in the Medical Corps (Specifically the Air Force). He _should_ be a doctor now, instead of the Whistler. But no. At 34 he had no medical licensure and a criminal record. 

He finally finished his whistling rendition of Beethoven’s 9th symphony and opened his (brother’s) apartment door. “Gabriel!” Castiel sang, “I’m home!” 

No answer. 

He was probably out with Kali again, and since Castiel had no money and no other support, it meant he would go hungry, again. 

Sighing, he checked the bare cabinets for peanut butter or honey, anything he could put on toast. Luckily, he found honey. Unfortunately, there was no bread. 

He figured it must be better than the alternative, being cast out on the streets to fend for himself. A veteran, and ex-con. He knew he would never be hired anywhere. 

The longer he stayed with Gabriel, the fewer his job options were becoming. In a few years, he would be on the streets. A medical degree from a top medical school good for nothing and his status as a veteran seen as just plain _sad._

It was a hard place to be. 

Castiel didn’t let it lose his faith in humanity, however. He had a pretty good day, after all. Even if he did think that the green-eyed man with the spikey, dirty blond hair from the car garage had been following him. He was cute enough, so who cares, right?

Castiel would make sure to walk around that part of town more often.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like my fluffy happy Destiel story. So it's gonna move a little faster than Kiss and Not Tell or any other stories I put out. Thanks for reading, Comments and Kudos are life. 
> 
> Also, if anyone out there wants to Beta for any of my stories, let me know. I could use the incentive to keep writing.

The next few days passed uneventfully for Dean. He did go to see Sam at Harvard, got his hair cut in Boston, and even poked around Fenway Park a bit, even though there were no games going on for a few weeks. Dean liked taking the train in to see Sam, though he would’ve preferred to drive if Boston weren’t so crazy. 

All the while, he couldn’t get the mysterious Whistler out of his mind. He resolved that the next time he saw him, he would talk to him. There had to be more to it than just a guy who likes to whistle, right?  
It was Tuesday, and Dean had ended up taking an Audi, an old Buick, and a Toyota Camry in for the next few days. He spent most of his time on the Buick, as Ash was way better with Toyotas and neither really wanted anything to do with the old Audi, but it was an elderly man’s town car and he said he didn’t need it back until the weekend. 

The repairs to the Buick were quick and simple, leaving Dean with plenty of time to do office work. He found himself whistling “Hey Jude” as he blew through insurance claims and accident reports. By the time Dean surfaced again for air, it was already 6:15 and Ash had just finished the Camry. 

“Wellp,” Dean said loudly, snapping Lisa out of a boredom trance, “Looks like it’s quittin’ time a bit early today. Thanks for your help today, guys.” 

Lisa flashed Dean a beautiful smile and gathered her belongings to go home. 

Once Ash and Lisa were ready, they exited the building together, laughing and joking on their way out the door. Dean locked up and bid them both a good night, both responded with goodnights of their own. 

Dean started walking towards his apartment, when he heard a familiar tune being whistled. In fact, it was a song he heard almost every day, his ringtone, Smoke on the Water. He looked up to see the Whistler, keeping the beat of the song by patting this outer thigh to the rhythm. 

At first, Dean wanted to turn and ignore him. It would be so easy, he was sure that dozens of people saw him every day and didn’t attempt to stop or say hello to him. On the other hand, the man was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes, sex ruffled hair, he was everything Dean could want in a dude, physicality wise. 

Dean took a deep breath, and gave the Whistler a smile as he approached him. “Hey, man.” Dean said, getting now very close to the other man. 

“Hello,” the other man stopped his music-making and smiled almost shyly at Dean.

“I’ve seen you around a few times, I think, do you whistle all the time?” Dean asked somewhat awkwardly. 

“Not all the time,” The man replied easily, he seemed used to this line of questioning, “Most of the time.”

“That’s… cool. A good hobby I guess. I’m Dean, Dean Winchester.” 

“Ah, Winchester, like the town. I’m Castiel.”

“Cas-teel?”

“Cas-Tee-EL” Cas corrected.

“That’s a bit of a mouthful, but I guess so is ‘whistler’, is it cool if I call you Cas?”

Castiel smiled at that, “Of course.”

“So Cas, I was wondering if you might wanna grab a bite to eat with me. I just got out of work and I’m pretty new to the area. I’ve seen you walking all over town, mind showing me where the best place to grab a burger is?”

“I would love that, Dean.” He smiled, it was private, just a quirk of the corner of his lips. 

“Okay, wanna just walk or you wanna go somewhere far away?”

“We should drive, lets go to Shrewsbury St. They have great burgers at The Fix.” Castiel frowned, “I don’t have a car, though. We could call a cab.”

“Nah, I got a car. Let me show you.” Dean was excited to show Castiel his car. They walked in silence for a few steps but then Castiel began whistling again. This time it was a happy sounding song that Dean didn’t recognize. 

Dean smiled at Castiel’s song, walking in pace with the tune. Soon they made it to Dean’s apartment and Dean took the tarp off his baby. “This is her,” Dean said as Castiel marveled at the car. 

“Beautiful, Dean.” Castiel said, and for a moment Dean wasn’t sure if he was talking about the car or himself. Castiel ran his hand along the side of the car gently. “You know there’s a vintage car show in the next town over every thursday, you could show her off there.”

“Cool, that actually sounds like a lot of fun.” Dean said as he put the key in the ignition. The drive was quick, and they listened to the radio. Castiel didn’t whistle. 

When they arrived to the diner, they were quickly seated and still no noise from Castiel. There seemed to be something weighing on his mind, but he wasn’t about to voice it. 

“So…” Dean said awkwardly. “Have you always lived in Worcester?”

“No. I’m from Greenfield. It’s western Mass, I moved here with my brother when I was working at a doctor at UMass Memorial. And I spent some time at Fort Jackson for Basic Training and such. And 18 months in the middle east after that. Then all over the world, I was stationed in Korea for a while, then Amsterdam, even Morocco for a stint.”

“Wow, so military, how come you aren’t still at UMass?” Dean asked, and there was a certain curiosity to his eyes that made Castiel want to tell him everything. But he couldn’t. Trust was something that had to be earned. 

“It’s a long story. The short version is that I was accused of a crime I didn’t commit. I was out for a walk when it happened, since walking helps me to clear my head. But I had no alibi, I passed dozens of people on the street but no one could remember seeing ME. I just blended in that much…”

“So, that’s why you whistle, everyone knows who you are now. If you were ever accused again, you’d have an alibi.”   
“Exactly. Once I was out of prison, I needed to make sure I would never go back. So I made sure that everyone knew where I was and when I was coming. Most people don’t ask, they just assume I’m mentally ill, but friendly enough. And I try not to look as scruffy as some of the other homeless vets in the area…” Castiel frowned and put his burger down, realizing what he had just said. 

“You’re homeless?” Dean asked, concern filling his eyes. 

“Only technically. Most nights I stay with my brother, but he only has a studio apartment so when he and his girlfriend are home I find… other arrangements. He lets me keep my things there, though. Clothing, toiletries, things like that. I don’t have much, so he doesn’t mind.” Castiel shrugged. “How about you? Your accent makes me think you’re from the midwest.”

“I don’t have an accent.” Dean said, still frowning with concern. 

“Sure you do. Only on certain words, so I doubt you’re from Alabama or Texas, and not quite as strong as Tennessee or Kentucky. I’m going to guess Ohio or Kansas. Maybe the far point of Oregon.” Cas smiled. He was damned good at this.

“Kansas. But I lived in Palo Alto California for a while when my brother went to Stanford. He’s doing a Graduate program at Harvard Law now, which is why I’m here. The city was a little too much for me, but I like the fact that the state is so small you could be from one end to the other in less than a day. So I settled here. It’s about an hour by commuter rail into the city from Union Station, so I go out on weekends to see him.”

“That’s amazing. He sounds very smart.” Castiel smiled.

“He is, I was never much for school. Dropped out of high school and got my GED, then went to trade school and properly and legal got licensed as a mechanic. Now almost a decade later here I am. It’s a simple life. But Sam, he’s always wanted more. Always pushed himself hard. He’s just so smart, quick witted and he’ll talk your ear off about things I can’t even begin to understand. He got in this debate with a guy at a bar once about ‘Constitutional Law’. Me, I tuned out after the first syllable, then went on to chat up some very nice twins. That’s the difference between him and me.” Dean spoke so fondly, so softly of his brother it warmed Castiel’s heart.

Gabriel was a good brother, he gave Castiel as much as he could given his situation. Gabriel owned a candy company, Arcade Snacks. They distributed to many local places, movie theaters and bowling alleys in the small surrounding towns. Still, summer was their busiest season and then the rest of the year was a struggle. Since Gabriel’s apartment was so small, he would stay on the couch when it was just the two of them. But when Kali came over Castiel made himself scarce. Always saying that he was staying at a friend’s house for the night. Normally “Friend’s House” meant sleeping on a bench out in a secluded park by the Leicester line. Sometimes he would go to the shelter, too. Talk with other veterans and compare ranks. He didn’t tell Dean this, though. 

Once they were both finished with their burgers the check came. Castiel pulled out his wallet, to this relief, he found $10 in it. It wouldn’t allow him to leave a decent tip, which he always felt bad about and why he wouldn't go out to eat even when he did have money.   
While Castiel was struggling, he didn’t notice Dean slip $40 in the holder and tell the waitress it was all set. Castiel looked at Dean, slightly annoyed. “Here,” Cas said, attempting to hand Dean his $10. 

“Nah, Cas. It’s all set. I asked you out, remember. What sort of date would I be if I didn’t buy your burger?” Dean smirked.

“This was a date?” Castiel asked, now smiling a bit himself.

“Sure, why not?”

Castiel felt brave, and Dean’s little smile was more than enough for him to want to know how his lips felt. He still had no idea if Dean was kidding. If Dean was interested in men. Still, that wasn’t going to stop him. Once they reached the parked car, Castiel pushed Dean against it, capturing his lips. 

At first, it was rough but sweet, but Dean was having none of that. Soon Castiel felt Dean’s tongue sliding into his mouth. It soon became sloppy, their breaths coming in pants when they finally came up for air. Castiel nibbled lightly on Dean’s bottom lip. When they finally broke away, Dean let out a low whistle.

“Hey,” Castiel said, “Thats my thing.” And once again, their lips met.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not giving up on "Kiss and Not Tell" I promise. I just heard this story and thought it would be fun to write. I've got GISHWHES this week as well but I will try to have another chapter on KaNT by the end of the week.


End file.
